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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25429708">Son (and the trauma that follows)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/depress0_espress0/pseuds/depress0_espress0'>depress0_espress0</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hamilton - Miranda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, George Washington is a Dad, Hurt Alexander Hamilton, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, My First Work in This Fandom, oops my hand slipped</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:14:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>915</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25429708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/depress0_espress0/pseuds/depress0_espress0</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the duel against Charles Lee. The conversation between Washington and Hamilton goes a bit different.</p><p>And Washington is such a dad.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexander Hamilton &amp; George Washington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>165</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Son (and the trauma that follows)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I stood behind my desk, watching as Alexander paces the length of the tent. I sigh and rub the bridge of my nose in a sad attempt to stave off the headache creeping behind my eyes.</p><p>"Son," "Don't call me son." "you didn't need to have the duel. This war is bad enough without my own men fighting each other."</p><p>"He was doubting your command at every opportunity. He constantly spoke out against you and your name." </p><p>"My names been through a lot. I can take it."</p><p>"Well I can't! I can't stand it when people try to dirty a good mans name. It disgusts me."</p><p>"If you would, son," "'m not your son." "can you keep you opinions to yourself. I need you here with me."</p><p>"But sir, if you would just give me command of a battalion-"</p><p>"No! I can't have you out there dying when I need you here."</p><p>"But sir, I'm ready to die for my country."</p><p>"I know that son, but-"</p><p>"Don't call me son! Stop calling me that! I'm not your son!" Alexander looked up at me, tears in his eyes, unshed. He has now stopped pacing and was standing completely still. I stepped towards him, arm stretched out to comfort. That was a mistake as Alexander flinched harshly.</p><p>Alexander stepped back quickly until his back met the unsteady wall of the tent. He stiffened again before curling into a ball on the ground, breathing quickening. I recognized these symptoms as part of a panic attack. But, only men who have been captured or something equally traumatic happened to them. An old memory pushed from the back of my mind to the forefront.</p><p>I had managed to get Alexander slightly drunk.</p><p>
  <em>"Tell me about yourself, Hamilton."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Well, I used to live in the Caribbean, on a little island called Nevis."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Really?" I was shocked, both at the information and the fact that Alexander told him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yeah, it was a beautiful island until a hurricane blew through and destroyed it. Before the hurricane came, my father left. A while after that, my mom died, my brother ran away, and my cousin killed himself. That's why I came to America. For a fresh start."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"My God Hamilton. I must say, history definitely has its eyes on you."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yeah, I suppose you could say that."</em>
</p><p>There is no way Alexander got off of that island unscathed, emotionally and mentally. I moved around my desk and knelt inn front of Alexander. I watched his erratic breaths for a moment before I began to guide him into a healthy breathing pattern. It was painful, to listen to him wheeze and gasp for air desperately. It took a painfully long time until Alexander's breaths slowed to a reasonable pace. Alexander, if possible, curled more into himself. </p><p>"Hamilton," A hummed response. "can you explain to me what that was?"</p><p>"'s nothing, sir."</p><p>"That was clearly not nothing. As your commanding officer, I demand that you tell me what caused that." At this. Alexander looked up, eyes rimmed in red.</p><p>"I don't see why you need to know."</p><p>"Because it has to do with the wealth fare of my aide-de-camp and I need to know what causes those in order to prevent it from happening."</p><p>Alexander sighed, dropping his head into his knees, as if that could protect him from the truth. It became acutely aware to me that Alexander was still young. He shouldn't be fighting in a war but with a fire that burns inside him, the fierce desire to be remembered and accomplish something that will outlast him, and pure necessity, he was here, at a military base doing more than an average foot solider. </p><p>"My father... left when I was ten. He was never there but always at the same time. He would disappear into the village for hours at a time. When he returned, he was drunk, and... and he beat me. My mother tried to stop him. My brother, he was the favorite, he watched, occasionally helping or providing him ideas," Alexander spoke softly. He let out a bitter laugh at the end. "every time, he would say it was for my benefit. He would stand over me, fists or belt or whatever he decided to use, poised to strike, and would say 'I'm doing this because I love you son.' I suppose I was a disappointment and he tried to fix me."</p><p>I sat for a moment, digesting the words. It makes sense, now. Alexanders drive and need to succeed and his desperation to make some people proud. <em>Like you.</em> A traitorous voice whispered in my mind.</p><p>"S'pose now you think I'm a disappointment as well. It's fine. I understand if you no longer want me as your aide-de-camp anymore. I'll just go and get my things together and I'll be out of the way." Alexander began to rise, brushing himself off.</p><p>"No, sit down Alexander. You will not leave command, but you will take a three week leave, to go see your wife." Alexander looked shocked.</p><p>"Y-you don't hate me?" Alexander's voice broke, barely swallowing a sob. His eyes were once again brimmed with tears.</p><p>"Oh, son," I breathed out softly. I grabbed him and wrapped him in my arms securely, pulling him close to my chest. "you can never make me hate you, or make me disappointed. Will you let me show you?"</p><p>Silence fell for a moment. I listened to Alexanders, ragged breathing as it slowed.</p><p>"Ok." </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oops, my hand slipped. Sorry, not sorry. This is the consequence of being up at four in the morning with no life.</p><p>I'm open to writing for the Hamilton fandom, so if you have any suggestions, let me know!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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